


Derek's Beard Adventure

by lostnoise



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fairies, I suck at tagging, M/M, Stupid Boys, derek with a beard, stiles likes beards, they are not the same thing though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-13
Updated: 2013-03-13
Packaged: 2017-12-05 05:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostnoise/pseuds/lostnoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere between the kelpie invasion and discovering the fairy nest in the woods, Derek realizes he hasn’t showered in a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Derek's Beard Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> For [Alyse](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Esyla/pseuds/Esyla) who prompted me on tumblr with "derek has a beard." This was written all this afternoon and is unbeta'd, so my apologies!

Somewhere between the kelpie invasion and discovering the fairy nest in the woods, Derek realizes he hasn’t showered in a week. It was Erica who wrinkled her nose and marched him to the bathroom, Derek protesting weakly because, to be honest, a shower sounds like fucking heaven right now. Under the hot spray, hot even for Derek’s naturally high body temperature, and he groans out loud.

Fuck.

His muscles relax, eyes close, and he tilts his head into the water streaming down until his head is soaked. It takes away the tension of what’s been a hectic month. First it was the kelpies eating people and leaving them with huge bite-marks and hoof-prints in the dirt around the body. He’d had to call up to Berkely to figure out what to do. Now, with the fairies… he had to call them down for the weekend. Well, he had Boyd call them to ask them to come down for the weekend. Usually Derek lets them be, calls in for advice, but the fairies are proving to be absolute unholy terrors.

He steps out of the stall in his rundown “under-furnished” apartment, wraps a towel around his waist, and catches a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Shit, he hasn’t shaved in even longer than it took him to finally get a shower. A month, probably, not since before the kelpies.

His mind’s been on the fairies - everyone thinks they’re so sweet, that they grant wishes or whatever… but they’re vicious-natured and clever as hell, and they have ridiculously sharp teeth, and there’s nothing in the books he has about them - and he’s been keeping everyone out of the woods.

Derek passes a hand over the overgrown stubble. It’s more of a proper beard, and Derek hasn’t had anything like this before. He was always the type to shave, always keeping himself in tip-top shape, but lately it’s just been too hectic. Green eyes survey the facial hair approvingly. He doesn’t look too bad. More rugged, maybe more mountain man, probably scarier to the human population than before.

The stink-eyes at the store when Derek runs to get his groceries make sense now.

He scratches his fingers at his chin and they sink into the hair there. Shaving would take too long, but he can always trim it up. Besides, he kind of likes the beard.

Derek keeping it has nothing to do with  _Stiles_ , of course.

= = =

Stiles comes back from Berkeley that weekend, Scott and Isaac with him, to investigate this “fairy problem” Boyd called about. Stiles is pretty excited that something like this happened because he hasn’t been involved with a case (which is what he likes to call them, because he totally feels like they’re Angel Investigations what with all the life-saving they do on a bi-monthly basis, just without the paid aspect - and hey, they should totally start charging) since they went back to school in January. Now it’s nearly May, and sure, the Beacon Hills guys have called back and stuff for research help, but Derek has pretty much refused to let them come home, and Stiles will not drive from Berkeley to Beacon Hills by himself. Just no.

Plus  _fairies._  How could anyone say no?

They get to Derek’s industrial-grade loft and Stiles parks on the street. Renovators have decided that the decaying warehouse district needs a face-lift, and the city council got behind them to bring more business and residency into Beacon Hills. So now Derek lives on the top-floor, in a loft with an open-concept and stairs leading up to the second floor which hosts one guest room and the guest room. There are a couple rooms on the bottom floor, too, one that Erica and Boyd both share for example, and another that Isaac uses when he’s back in Beacon for breaks. There’s barely any furniture, something Stiles points out every time he’s there.

But hey, at least it’s not a burnt out shell of a house. Stiles is proud of the improvement.

Isaac’s out of the jeep and hurrying into the warehouse to take the stairs up to Derek’s place. Stiles snorts. So eager to get to his alpha. He shoulders his bag, and Scott shoulders his, and they walk at a more leisurely pace. There’s no rush, even though Stiles is kind of aching to see Derek again. It’s a tension building between them, or something, or at least it keeps building on Stiles’s end. Between saving each other so many times and learning about Derek and slowly becoming something like friends, Stiles can’t help that maybe his feelings have become… more.

Take one look at Derek and tell Stiles that his feelings of more are unwarranted. He dares you.

When they reach the loft and push open the already-open door, Stiles stops dead in his tracks just inside the door. Lips parting, mouth open just-so, he stares at Derek. It’s been months, sure, but they’ve called and texted (Stiles still can’t convince Derek to use Skype, that fucker) and Derek never mentioned that he was growing a beard.

Their eyes catch over Isaac’s shoulder, because like the oversized puppy he is he’s nuzzling into his alpha probably to get his scent back or something wolf-y like that, and Stiles shudders at the gaze.

So, okay, Derek’s beard is insanely hot and Stiles is done for.

= = =

Derek pants, back pressed to the thick trunk of the tree he’s currently hiding behind, and glances to his left to see Stiles hiding behind another tree, amber eyes as wild as his heartbeat when he looks over at Derek. The older man feels warmth curl in his gut at the sight but he swallows and focuses on what’s happening.

Stiles went into full-research mode after pack dinner and apparently they need to find the queen and kill her and the rest will die soon after. That, or they can try to strong-arm the queen into picking a new place to nest. Like, somewhere in  _Oregon_. Somewhere far away from Beacon Hills and the preserve and the Hale territory.

But the queen is surrounded by what seems like a thousand of her minions with their freaky-sharp teeth, and oh yeah, apparently they like to eat  _bones_. Why can’t Derek get nice creatures in his woods? Like unicorns. They’re notoriously nice.

“Why are you here?” Derek hisses, glancing around the tree to make sure the fairies aren’t nearby. If Stiles gets captured by these things, if he gets _hurt_ … “Stiles, you’re going to get  _hurt_. Go back to the loft and wait there!”

“No!” Stiles hisses back, face scrunching up angrily as he points at Derek. Derek growls, eyes flashing red, though it hasn’t worked on Stiles since he was in high school. And even then, it stopped by Stiles’s senior year when they started getting friend;ly with each other. Became friends. “You’re going to want my help when your ass gets undoubtedly gets captured.”

They both get captured, as it turns out, and Boyd and Erica find the queen and kill her while Isaac and Scott take out the eggs. In the end, all six of them are covered in gross goop, Stiles’s wrists smell raw from rope, and Derek’s beard is itchy. He should probably shave it.

= = =

Stiles took the guest room upstairs with Derek rather than cram downstairs on the leather couch or separate Scott’s and Isaac’s epic sleepover because they’re not  _together_ but they totally are. Just… without the sex. Stiles tried asking Scott about it once but Scott got this face like he was sucking on a lemon and spluttered about Allison and scents and then mumbled something like “going slow” so Stiles doesn’t ask anymore. He just accepts.

After they’ve all showered and eaten, Stiles pads out of the guest room and to the bathroom because he forgot his boxers, probably the only article spared of fairy goo. He’s not sure the sparkles will ever truly come out of his hair but he can claim they went to a gay club and no one will think twice about it back at Berkeley. He pauses when he sees the light on and the door cracked, but pushes it open to see Derek with a towel around his waist, chest bare, rubbing shaving cream onto his face in familiar, skillful circles.

“What are you doing?!” Stiles shrieks, then winces when he realizes he shrieked it. Derek knew he was there, obviously, because he only winces at the volume and doesn’t startle at Stiles’s presence. “Are you shaving?!”

“…Yes, Stiles, how observant of you to notice,” Derek replies dryly, arching an amused eyebrow at the younger man. He doesn’t stop with the shaving cream.

“Well stop it,” Stiles snaps, stepping into the bathroom (and gross, the floor is wet and he’s wearing socks, ugh, those are going to need changing pronto) and he smacks Derek’s hands away from his face before grabbing a washcloth. “You’re keeping the beard.”

He shouldn’t be so surprised that his mouth and body are both acting without his permission, saying things he doesn’t want to say but actually does but was trying to keep them to himself. Soaking the washcloth, Stiles starts to wipe the shaving cream away. “God, Derek, you’re so fucking  _dumb_ , what are you  _doing_?” he murmurs to himself, and doesn’t even realize he said it out loud until Derek replies.

“What are  _you_ doing?”

“Keeping you from making a big mistake,” Stiles sasses back, arching an eyebrow of his own. “Your  _beard_ , Derek. You were going to get rid of your  _beard_. When did you even grow this thing? It looked like you trimmed it recently and now you’re trying to shave it? Are you actually nuts?”

“It’s itchy,” Derek counters, a little petulantly in Stiles’s opinion so he rolls his eyes.

“It looks good on you,” Stiles admits and then there goes his heart, racing double time as he clams up - literally, he bites on the insides of his lips as his cheeks turn red with embarrassment.

Derek looks down at him, and Stiles has pretty much all the shaving cream cleaned off by now. There’s still some in the mustache so Stiles raises the washcloth to wipe it away but his hand slows when he catches Derek staring at him with those piercing green eyes. He gulps and wipes away the last of the shaving cream, lingering there, before his fingers graze over Derek’s lips.

It’s purely accidental, but between that second and the next Derek has him pressed against the counter, washcloth dropping with a wet splat onto the tiled floor, and their lips are mashed together. Oh god, oh god, they’re kissing.

Derek is kissing Stiles.  _Derek_ is kissing  _Stiles_. 

…What?

He’s frozen in place, can’t move a muscle because he’s stunned, just stunned. If someone told him before he came down that he’d be kissed by Derek, he’d have laughed in their faces. Then gone home and maybe jerked off thinking about it.

Derek tries to pull away when Stiles gets distracted by his own thoughts, and Stiles can tell what he’s about to do. He’s going to spout some self-deprecating bullshit before pushing Stiles away with either a painful rejection or with his red alpha eyes and the growly voice - which really only succeeds in turning Stiles on, let’s be real here. So Stiles surges back, threads his hands into Derek’s wet hair and moans into the kiss, tongue darting out to lick at the seem of Derek’s lips before he winces and pulls back.

“Okay, first, wash your face,” Stiles says, and he’s not breathless, okay, he’s  _not_ , but maybe he kind of is. Who can blame him? He just got kissed by Derek Hale, enthusiastically kissed in fact. “You taste like shaving cream.” He took a deep breath, looking back to Derek’s lips as he did so, then let it out in a shaky exhale. _  
_

“Then what?” Derek asks, voice husky and oh god, oh god, it’s for _him._ Stiles is absolutely fucking  _giddy._

“Then you’re going to walk into your bedroom where I’ll be waiting.”

Stiles forgets about grabbing his boxers.

= = =

Derek keeps the beard.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would be amazing and if you want to prompt me on tumblr or say hello or just follow for my Dylan feels, you can find me [here](http://knottinghill.tumblr.com/).


End file.
